


Nothing But The Water

by tattletwink



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattletwink/pseuds/tattletwink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in between seasons 3 and 4. Rick, Michonne, and Daryl link it up in the showers. Established pairings. Rick angst for flavoring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But The Water

  
_I have seen what man can do_  
 _When the evil lives inside of you_  
 _Many are the weak_  
 _And the strong are few_  
 _But with the water_  
 _We'll start anew_

 

* * *

 

“How’s the farm, babe?” Michonne calls out from somewhere behind him. Daryl, likely at her side, chuckles.

 

Rick smiles. Patting down the soil around a tomato plant, he brushes his hands on his pants and rises to greet them.

 

“Hey, there.”

 

“Hey yourself.” Michonne closes the distance, throwing her arms over his shoulders. She kisses him deeply and Rick is more than willing to oblige, his tongue sweeping against hers. She pulls back, smiling broadly.

 

“Miss us?”

 

“Always.” Glancing from Michonne to Daryl, Rick feels a stab of guilt, brow furrowing. “I thought you were going to be back later.”

 

They were usually back closer to dusk when they went scouting. As it was, the sun was at its zenith, oozing steady heat on them in waves. If he’d known they’d been back so soon he would have been at the gate to meet them.

 

Rick rubs the back of his neck, feeling simultaneous guilt and irritation at his mistake.

 

“Didn’t have to go far. We found a warehouse with potential, a drugstore that don’t look too disturbed.” Daryl answers lazily, stepping forward into the garden to survey the scene. Rick follows his movement, absentmindedly wondering if Daryl approved of the layout of the vegetation.

 

“We’re going to head out again tomorrow with Sasha and Maggie to pick up supplies.” Michonne says, her gaze following Rick’s.

 

“Which means…” Daryl says , tugging at Rick’s belt loops, “You can be all romantic and shit and wait at the gate for us tomorrow.” He pecks his cheek, smirking.

 

Rick shakes his head, muttering “smartass” before tugging Daryl back in for a real kiss. Daryl groans in faux protest, but nips at Rick’s bottom lip playfully.

 

After they part, Rick examines both of them. For the first time he takes in their bedraggled appearances. “Looks like you two already did some adventuring.”

 

Thick blackish mud and debris paint Michonne from calf to breast up her left side and Daryl’s chest and arms are spotted with concentrated splatter. There don’t seem to be any traces of blood or Walker on them so that’s something.

 

“We did find something.” Michonne adds, voice smooth. “It was hell to get, but I think it was worth it.” She picks a scale of dried mud off of her pant leg and flicks it to the ground.

 

Daryl smirks. “I’d say so.”

 

“Well?” Rick looks from Daryl to Michonne.

 

Michonne’s mouth turns up into a smile, but instead of answering she busies herself with plucking away at the mud coating her side. Daryl can barely suppress a grin. Not for the first time, Rick feels outnumbered.

 

“It ain’t for out here. It’s inside.” Daryl finally says, jerking a thumb towards the prison.

 

Rick raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to tell me what it is?”

 

“I’m not one to spoil a surprise.” Michonne answers coolly. “Guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”

 

“It’s hotter than hell out here anyhow. You coming?”

 

Conflicted, Rick rests his hands on his hips then turns back to the field. “I’ve still got to weed the back quarter. I can be done in about an hour or so. Where are you two gonna be?”

 

“Showers.” Daryl snakes an arm around Michonne’s waist. “Can you believe how dirty Michonne got?” He asks, kissing her shoulder.

 

Michonne snorts, “Not as dirty as you, Dixon.”

 

Rick swallows. It is hot out and he’s been weeding for the better part of three hours. In any case, he feels guilty for missing them at the gate and Rick isn’t one to miss an opportunity to make it up to them.

 

“Guess it’ll keep for a few hours.”

 

* * *

 

 

The showers are quiet, sunlight from the windows dappling against limestone tiles. Rick hasn’t been in here during the day time since the last time he’d went out on a mission. The place is empty.

 

Informal custom dictates that no one goes into the showers until after the scouts are finished. Rick first assumed it was out of deference to the dangerous tasks that the scouts perform, until one day he walked past the bathroom and heard the telltale sounds of people fucking, a new development since the Woodbury folks had arrived.

Before Michonne, before he could swallow his anger, he remembered the same feverish desires upon return. The safety of home combined with the constant fear and anxiety of the outside world used to make his blood sing, his cock heavy and insistent between his legs.

 

Although he was seldom the fighter in their marriage, Rick couldn’t bring himself to forgive Lori. They’d lie for Carl as much as they could, but their relationship was beyond repair.

 

Rick wished it was about Shane. It would have been easier if it was.

 

He’d palm himself alone, cursing, in the shower unaware of Daryl’s eyes at his back. He wouldn’t approach him, but more than anyone Daryl was increasingly observant of Rick’s deteriorating mental state. It wasn’t until Michonne showed up that Rick even recognized the steel that had set in his spine, the extent of his distance from his the others.

 

He didn’t go out on scouting trips anymore, not when he didn’t have to. There was Carl to consider, Judith. As a leader he may have failed them, an experiment in tyranny, but he’d garnered enough respect to be left well enough alone these days.

 

Still, he didn’t forget the sensation, the swell of panic twisting into something more familiar. Everything was sharper on the outside, no room for dread when fear was spiking your adrenaline. That energy had to go somewhere.

 

Michonne and Daryl hide it better than he ever did, but Rick still catches a hazy look in Daryl’s eyes as he follows Michonne’s figure.

 

She deftly removes her katana from her back, setting it within arm’s reach of the shower. Kicking off her shoes, she stretches upward arching her back, fingers interwoven.

 

“Mind if I take the first shower?” She inquires, pulling the thin plastic curtain over the side of the adjoining shower.

 

“Ladies first.” Rick answers, making no movement to conceal his stare.

 

While Daryl and Rick stand guard more or less fully dressed, Michonne sheds her clothing. Layers of cotton, leather and denim fall in a pile to the ground and she toes them over to her boots.

 

The air is warm and heavy, the prison doesn’t offer much in terms of circulation so the temperature isn’t too much cooler than outside. Still, Michonne’s nipples pebble at the exposure and Rick becomes acutely aware of his breathing.

 

Daryl standing not two steps away, sighs with appreciation.

 

Michonne turns the squeaky knob and a steady stream of tepid water springs from the showerhead. She exhales, angling underneath the water. It isn’t a hot shower, but running water isn’t something you can undervalue in the new world order.

 

Water sluices between her breasts, rivulets tracing the curves of her hips and thighs. Rick wants to chase them with his tongue.

 

“Damned if I’m not starstruck every time she gets naked.” Daryl says with admiration, watching Michonne’s figure a moment before setting his crossbow on dividing wall then bending down to untie his boots.

 

Swallowing thickly, Rick agrees. “I know what you mean.”

 

There’s something to be said for distractions, avoidance. They aren’t always dishonest, not entirely. Some part of Rick enjoys the monotony of farming, the satisfaction of providing sustenance through hard work.

 

That being said, distractions stop you in your tracks from dealing with the shit in your life. Memories don’t fade, the twist and sharpen, from cotton threads to barbed wire. Something to rub yourself raw against for lack of anything better to do.

 

Rick has more than enough memories to bloody himself.

 

Standing in the showers he feels more like his old self than he has in months.

 

“You feeling alright?” Daryl asks, noticing Rick’s stillness, he presses a hand to the small of Rick’s back.

 

Rick’s chest feels tight. “Yeah, m’fine.” He reaches to remove his boots, willing himself to calm down. Spreading his toes, the tile feels warm and smooth against his feet.

 

Daryl’s face says he doesn’t buy it, but he doesn’t pry further.

 

“Feel free to get started without me.” Michonne says to neither of them in particular as she rubs a makeshift washcloth along her side. She can hear them perfectly fine, its not an overly large stall, but she allows them a level of discretion while she relaxes in the stream.

 

“Might just do that, now that you mention it.” Rick casts Daryl a sidelong glance.

 

While Daryl shrugs off his vest, Rick closes the gap between them, catching Daryl’s hips in a vice grip, kissing him deeply. Moving swiftly, he pushes them backward. Caught off guard by Rick’s enthusiasm, Daryl responds quickly, falling into step, until his back is flat against the wall.

 

Smirking into the kiss, Daryl drops a hand between them to palm Rick’s growing erection. Rick groans and Daryl kisses him along his jaw.

 

“Easy, sweetheart. We’ve got time.” Daryl murmurs. Rick realizes his body is still tense and exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

 

Flushing slightly, Rick slows his ministrations, trailing kisses along Daryl’s neck downward to the join of his shoulder. “That’s it.” Daryl coaxes him, carding Rick’s hair with his left hand while rubbing his length through his jeans with the other.

 

Salt and flecks of mud combine on Rick’s tongue as he lathes Daryl’s skin clean. For the second time that day, he’s thankful that they hadn’t encountered any Walkers. Daryl’s breathing stutters above him as he bites softly at the join, just enough to cause pain, but not enough to break the skin.

 

“I know you ain’t marking me, Rick.” Daryl groans, tugging at Rick’s hair.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Rick replies, sucking and teasing at the now bright pink skin.

 

Deft fingers work open Rick’s belt, sliding worn leather through even more worn belt loops at a deliberate pace. Rick tries to return the favor, but Daryl bats his hands away, pulling his face up to his as he undoes his own belt.

 

Rick places one hand on Daryl’s shoulder, thumb resting over his collar bone, while the other moved to retrieve Daryl’s cock from the confines of his jean. Daryl hisses, nipping at Rick’s bottom lip.

 

“Nice and slow.” Rick says, taking Daryl in hand.

 

Daryl nods an affirmative as Rick strokes the other man’s cock leisurely, Daryl’s breath hitches whenever his thumb swipes the tip, already slippery with precum.

 

Rick’s hard as hell now, Daryl’s breath hotter than furnace on his neck and his cock slick and insistent in his hands.

 

“You got something?” He asks, voice low and urgent.

 

“Back pocket.” Daryl replies. Rick feels for a tell tale bulge in Daryl’s jean pockets, exploiting the opportunity to squeeze Daryl’s ass.

 

Daryl squirms in his grasp. “Right pocket.”

 

“I’ll find it.” Rick answers, hand dropping to caress the back of Daryl’s thigh.

 

“Take your time.” Daryl bites back half heartedly, voice straining with need. Satisfied, Rick retrieves a small bottle of lube and Daryl turns around to position himself, broad hands bracing up against the wall. It’s an impressive sight, even fully clothed Rick can trace the lines of muscle through thin fabric.

 

Rick briefly entertains the idea removing the shirt, but he quashes the desire like a dead cigarette, opting instead to run a possessive hand along Daryl’s side. Daryl’s body went taut the first, and only time, Rick’s fingers so much as strayed across his back.

 

Michonne knew before he did, noticed Daryl’s propensity for shirts despite the rising temperatures. He let her see one day, back when they were tracking the Governor, stripping to reveal his back was lined with shiny jagged scars gleaming with ugly brightness.

 

Rick holds his tongue, more than a little familiar with broken homes living south of the poverty line from his time on the beat. Every town has its rot, its decay. He figures he can spin the story pretty well on his own, but the subject’s dead until Daryl raises it.

 

Wetting his fingers with lubricant, Rick pushes Daryl’s jeans down and sets to stretching him out. Daryl goes quiet, only the sounds of measured breathing and shower splash envelope the small stall.

 

Rick moves from one finger to two, easing past the tight ring of muscle. After he’s sure Daryl’s ready and then a little bit longer, he introduces a third. Sweats blackens Daryl’s shirt into a black “t” shape and Daryl’s making small noises in his throat.

 

“You good?”

 

“Yeah.” He nods in affirmative.

 

Rick slicks up his neglected length, groaning at the sensation. Lining himself up, he places a calming hand on Daryl’s hip as he slowly eases himself in to the hilt, groin flush against his backside. He has to take a steadying breath to resist the urge to fuck him fast and rough.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Daryl moans. Rick almost comes undone at the words, trying to find something to neutral to focus on to distract him from Daryl’s body clenching around him and the soft noises coming out of his throat.

Eventually Daryl nods his head again and Rick begins to move. He sets a brisk pace, right hand dropping to stroke Daryl’s cock. He moans beneath him, arms quivering against the wall. Rick angles himself so his cock gazes Daryl’s sweet spot.

 

Gripping tightly, Rick’s fingers promise to raise faded purple bruises within the hour. He can feel his orgasm building, tight and low in his gut. He isn’t going to last much longer.

 

Daryl cums beneath him with a shout and a few pumps later Rick follows suit, spilling into him. Shaky on his feet he leans over him, kissing his neck, panting hard.

 

When he feels a little more sure of his legs, he pulls out endeavoring to stand. Daryl turns, leaning back against the wall. He’s the picture of debauchery, pupils blown head canted upward. His shirts mostly undone, stripes of cum painting his stomach.

 

Squinting at him in blissful contentment, he chuckles lowly.

 

“C’mere.” Daryl beckons him with the crook of his finger. Nipping at Rick’s bottom lip, Daryl’s fingers hold Rick’s jaw carefully as if it were glass. Rick kisses back lazily, soaking in the afterglow and the heat oozing off Daryl’s skin. “I love you, but I got dibs on the shower.”

 

“Ain’t gonna fight you on that one.”

 

Cool hands wrap around his Rick’s middle. Michonne’s a familiar weight against him, breasts soft against his back,. Water seeps through his thing material of his shirt. She leans over his shoulder, kissing Daryl sweetly. “It’s all yours.”

 

“Thanks, darling.” Daryl winks, before heading over the shower, unceremoniously shedding clothes on his journey.

 

Michonne strides in front of him, fingers dragging across his shoulder.

 

“Have a good shower?” He asks, swallowing hard. Droplets of water tease their way down her body, dripping sweetly from the tips of her locks. Michonne affects to not notice the hungry way he watches her.

 

She hums in agreement, hands busy unbuttoning Rick’s shirt. “It was wonderful. Scalding hot water, soft loofah, and thick Egyptian towels. Everything I could have asked for.” Her voice is mirthful as she tugs him closer by his shirt tails.

 

“That does sound wonderful.” She hums in agreement, gently pushing his shirt over his shoulders. It falls to a heap behind him.

 

Their lips meet and Ricks hand drop to rest on her hips. It’s gentle at first, chastely brushing lips before their mouths part deepening the kiss. Rick’s heart beats fast in his chest as Michonne’s fingers slide grip his nape. Her breasts are soft against his chest and Rick relishes the contact.

 

After they break apart, Michonne fixes him with a knowing look. Caught in her gaze, he feels the question before she asks it.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Rick ducks his head, chuckling to himself. It figures that nothing gets past either of them. She watches him with careful concern.

 

“I’m alright.” He pauses, wanting to leave it at that, but he continues despite himself, “It’s hard being here when y’all are out there, being out there when Carl and Judith are here. I need to find a middle ground.”

Michonne massages his neck lightly. “We’re careful, Rick. We find our way home.” Home. Rick wants to smile. Michonne was supposed be in the wind, gone after the danger died down. But after everything was said and done, she was still with them.

 

Still, the subject matter lingers bitter in his thoughts. He swallows, he doesn’t want to push the conversation to it’s inevitable end. To the eventuality that someday they might not come home, someday when the difference between life and death will depend on whether or not he was there.

 

She continues. “I know it isn’t easy, but you’ll figure things out. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

 

Rick sighs. “I know. I’m not very good at this yet.”

 

“I don’t know, you’re good at _some_ parts of it.” She lifts an eyebrow suggestively. The subject is dropped for the moment, though Rick feels like somehow it will arise again when all three of them aren’t otherwise occupied.

 

“You don’t say.” Rick laughs, embracing the moment of levity to kiss her once more. Michonne’s hands drop to rest on his broad shoulders. He cups her breast, dropping down to lavishing attention from one swell to the other, his tongue swirling around a peaked nipple.

 

“Ah,” Michonne gasps, nails digging into Rick’s skin involuntarily as she shivers at the contact. Rick’s cock twitches at the sensation.

 

Dropping to his knees before her, he takes one delicate ankle in hand. Raising it to his lips, he kisses it demurely, carefully mapping its contours with reverence.

 

Michonne leans against the wall, watching him with amusement. He begins massaging the tight muscles of her calf. Michonne sighs in pleasure at the sensation, her body draining of all tension as her fingers fan wide against tile.

 

After he’s finished with the right calf, he moves to the left. Michonne shifts her weight, fingers now idly toying with Rick’s hair as he works to massage away the tension lingering in her taut muscles. She hums with appreciation.

 

Rick kisses the nicks and scars he encounters along the way, mindful of the ones whose stories he knows, of the ones he doesn’t. Michonne arches her back above him, eyes drifting shut.

 

Her thighs are next. Rick busies himself with locating and working out the deepest knots before rubbing her down. Michonne hisses at times, the deep tissue knots requiring a lot more pressure to remove than most.

 

“Has anyone ever told you have the most beautiful legs?”

 

Michonne smiles. “Once or twice.”

 

Rick shakes his head in disapproval. “You should hear it everyday.”

 

Satisfied with his work, Rick trails kisses up her thigh to the crest of her hipbone. Nipping it gently, he moves to the other one, kissing gently, beard rubbing against Michonne’s firm stomach.

 

Michonne watches him with anticipation as he dips down from her hips to rest on her Venus mound. He nuzzles her groin, relishing her scent. Delicately, he lifts her leg, so he can better position himself between her legs. Michonne obliges, bracing herself against the wall. She’s already wet when he greets her, he does his best to ignore what the realization does to his already insistent erection.

 

He begins with licking her outer lips, slowly making his way inward. Michonne’s fingers tighten in her hair as he groans with pleasure at the taste of her on his tongue. Slowly he traces his way along her sex, licking carefully around her clit.

 

He traces letters and words with his tongue. First hers, than his, then “Daryl”. He wonders if she can tell then doubts it, given the labored breathing above him and tight hand in her hair.

 

When he feels her begin to twitch around him, he applies the slightest pressure on her clit, licking it softly. Michonne trembles above him as he continues his ministrations.

 

Soon she’s squirming around him, Rick teases at her clit with more pressure until she comes undone. Rick rides it out with her, kissing her pussy farewell before falling back on his heels. Michonne is a vision before him, a fine film of sweat covering her mahogany skin, chest rising and falling from exertion.

 

He scales the length of her body, peppering light kisses, until he catches his lips. She kisses him intensely.

 

“You’re pretty good at that.” She says, brushing a hair out of his face.

 

“Mind if I cut in?” Daryl asks Rick, dripping water. Rick pauses looking him up and down. Daryl cuts almost as beautiful of a dripping visage as Michonne, all broad shoulders and narrow waist.

 

“By all means.” Rick replies, kissing him. Daryl slips in some tongue no doubt scouring his mouth for a taste of Michonne. Michonne swats his ass as he leaves.

 

“Go get cleaned up.”

 

“I will.” He replies, shaking his head with amusement.

 

Rick sheds his jeans outside of the shower, tossing them over the wall to hand. Stepping into the cramped stall, he turns on the faucet and relaxes into the spray. There’s something to be said for the simple pleasures, he muses, as dirt and grit swirl into the drain. Shaking his head, he runs his hands through his hair. He watches Michonne and Daryl from afar.

 

Daryl’s leaning in close, whispering something to Michonne. She whispers something back. Rick can’t help, but smile admiringly at the seamless way they bleed into each other sometimes.

 

Words give way to action as they entwine themselves together, strong arms and frantic fingers pulling each other close.

 

When they returned from hunting for the Governor, everyone had been surprised at the new proximity between the two, the casual intimacy. A small touch of his arm here, a hand resting on his leg there, they gravitated towards each other with chaotic ease.

 

Michonne would sneak up the stairs of the watchtower on the nights Daryl’s on watch, often with light provisions like dried apricots or almonds carefully wrapped in her vest. She’d offer him a handful and sit at the edge, legs dangling, watching the stars. They’d speak in hushed voices until sunrise.

Daryl began to grab two trays at mealtimes, one for himself and one for Michonne. They’d sit together munching on whatever semblance for a balanced meal Herschel could cook up. Daryl adding a forkful of powdered eggs to Michonne’s plate when he thought she wasn’t looking. She was, but she would let it slide sometimes.

 

Neither Daryl nor Michonne had demonstrated any romantic leanings one way or the other before they’d left which it made it all the more surprising.

 

Rick had chalked up any glances from Michonne to her wariness, any glances from Daryl to platonic concerns. On return, their eyes dragged along his figure with the same ease they watched each other, practically inseparable when their duties allowed it.

 

They did their separate jobs, but as though magnetized they found each other intermittently throughout the day. Daryl pausing to watch Michonne eviscerate walkers in the field, Michonne walking past the gate just as Daryl returned from a hunt.

 

They always managed to find him, too.

 

Michonne’s moan lifts him from his reverie. Her ankles are locked tight around Daryl as he thrusts in her. She meets his thrusts, riding his cock with passion. Supporting her weight in his arms, he groans with pleasure as she writhes on top of him.

 

Her lips part in ecstasy as she hits her second orgasm, moments later Daryl cums with a shudder, enveloping Michonne against the wall. She rubs circles along his shoulders as he tries to catch her breath.

 

Daryl’s muscles twitch, but he holds her securely until he’s sure he can set her down gently. He discards the condom, and she pulls him in for a kiss, before leading him towards into the shower.

 

“We’re coming in.” Michonne announces.

 

“The more the merrier.” Rick answers.

           

It’s cramped with Rick inside, but with Michonne and Daryl in the mix it’s even tighter. Rick pulls the shower curtain back down around them. Daryl, flushed and sensitive, moves underneath the stream. Michonne nuzzles herself into Rick’s chest he pulls her close to her. Daryl shakes out his wet hair, moving for Michonne to move under the spray. She showers off quickly.

 

“I’ll be right back.” Daryl announces, slipping out of the stall.

 

Michonne turns off the faucet and leans against the shower wall. Daryl returns back, a red plastic bottle in hand.

 

“What’s that?” Rick asks point blank, squinting to read the label.

 

“Check it out.” Daryl tosses it to him. Michonne grins in anticipation. Catching it, Rick lifts the bottle to investigate.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding.” He laughs, in disbelief of their fortune. “I haven’t seen this in ages. You find this today?”

 

“There’s more where that came from.” Michonne says.

 

“Means we can be greedy.” Daryl smirks.

 

“I guess we can.”

 

Rick cracks the top open, squirting a clear thick blue gel into his palm until it’s almost overflowing. The stall immediately fills with the heavy artificial scent of an avalanche or a typhoon, whatever it says on the package, but most importantly it smells _clean_.

 

They pass the bottle around, the shower a certifiable cloud of scent. Michonne rubs it between her hands, careful not to spill any on the ground whereas Daryl slaps a full hand against Rick’s thigh before rubbing it into a lather. Michonne laughs, pawing at Daryl’s chest with two mitteny hands. Rick sandwiches her between them, a sudsy hand catching the underside of her breast.

 

Caught in the tight shower stall, they spread the body wash to whichever limbs avail themselves. It’s hot now, the shower curtain preserving their collective body heat. It’s one thing to get the dirt off, its another to exult in the sensation of feeling genuinely clean.

 

“I never thought I’d be happy to smell men’s body wash again.” Michonne chuckles to herself, hands gliding up and down over the planes of Rick’s back.

 

“I couldn’t stand the stuff back then.” Daryl agrees, sneezing, Michonne’s firm ass lovingly lathered under his ministrations.

 

“It ain’t that bad.” Rick says after a pause, lathering up Michonne’s calf. Daryl and Michonne can’t bite back their laughter.

 

“Of course you used to use it.” Daryl snickers.

 

“I think it smells nice.”

 

Michonne shakes her head, smiling. “We’ll keep out eyes open for some nice cologne next time we make a run.”

 

They cover every conceivable inch of skin between them, careful hands soothing the sore spots, chaste kisses through warm suds. They kiss each other languidly. With Michonne and Daryl in his arms, Rick’s reluctant to leave.

 

Eventually one of them turns on the faucet, the spray rinsing their bodies clean. Clouds of foams drift towards the drain as they each take turns under the full pressure of the shower, exiting one at a time.

 

“I could go for a nap.” Michonne exclaims, accepting an extended towel from Daryl.

 

“I need to finish that weeding. You two go and I’ll meet up with you later.” Rick says awkwardly, toweling himself off with the ripped bed sheets allocated for just such purposes.

 

“Nice try,” Michonne exclaims, grabbing his hand in her own. “You aren’t getting out of cuddling that easy.”

 

“I can do it, you should rest.” Daryl replies quickly, rubbing his hair with a sheet.

 

Michonne rolls her eyes, “How about you both come with me to my room, we have a nap, and then we can all go finish the weeding before sundown.”

 

“Now that’s an idea.” Daryl agrees amicably.

 

“That way we all get dirty.” Rick frowns.

 

Michonne shrugs, “We can always wash up again.”

 

Rick smiles at the simplicity. He gives a parting glance to the shower before following Michonne and Daryl to her room. With Michonne cuddled up on his left side and Daryl aggressively insinuating himself into his right, Rick drifts off almost instantly, regrets and fears giving way to dreams of the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I don't own The Walking Dead :(
> 
> 2) Fic title and lyrics are taken from the song Nothing But The Water by Grace and the Nocturnals which I dont own :(. It's a sweet song and you should probs listen to it.
> 
> 3) So they body wash they find is basically Old Spice. I have a headcanon that argues that pretty much all of that body wash stuff would go missing like thirty seconds into the zombie apoc because first of all it cleans your body (which is a plus plus) but also they are heavily scented which might work to confuse zombie sense so you could remain undetected (?)
> 
> 4) Didn't really have much of an idea of what I was doing when I wrote this one so all of the weird tonal changes are totally my fault and I'm sorry
> 
> 5) Mickyl forever y'all!


End file.
